


A Broken-Winged Bird

by shewhospeakswiththunder



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Skywalker-typical angst, machinery as metaphor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 19:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20999762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhospeakswiththunder/pseuds/shewhospeakswiththunder
Summary: Join the author as she once more celebrates her one true joy: speaking about Ben Solo through the use of cryptic metaphor





	A Broken-Winged Bird

**Author's Note:**

> (guys please read these twitter threads if you haven’t already, they are BRILLIANT and AMAZING and MAKE SO MUCH SENSE, and I draw directly from corseque’s thoughts in this piece)  
https://twitter.com/northgalis/status/1122286805955387393  
https://twitter.com/northgalis/status/1181439206112890881

“Oi! Stop!” Rey shouted, sprinting across the hangar to where the Millenium Falcon was currently docked. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, still breathing heavily, hands braced on her knees.

“This bird, no good. Broken. Need parts,” the man in goggles said in stilted Basic, all the while continuing to tear out the Falcon’s innards.

“This ship is  _ not scrap.” _

“Lady, this bird disaster. Look!” he countered, gesturing vehemently at the exposed wiring.

“It’s just a little corroded! I can replace these,” Rey fought back.

“Lady—”

“I’m going to  _ fix it,” _ she growled at the man through gritted teeth. 

He blatantly rolled his eyes at her. “If girl want disaster, girl get disaster. I no care.” He gingerly rose from his knees and began putting his equipment away, muttering murderously under his breath in a language Rey didn’t understand.

“It’s  _ not _ a disaster,” she yelled at his retreating back. He gave her a saucy wave of the hand in response, not even bothering to turn around.

The Falcon was, in fact, a disaster.

Some aggravating factor was choking the modulator on the high-pressure valve connected to the combustion chamber, making the accelerator especially volatile. Not only did it make the Falcon’s steering temperamental, it also happened to be a ticking time bomb. Too much pressure with no modulator meant only one thing:  _ ka-boom _ .

Rey hadn’t had the time or the energy to really dive in and figure out the fix, and so had willfully ignored the situation and put the Falcon on the no-fly-needs-repairs list for the time being. To her chagrin, she was quickly learning that some problems, no matter how long you ignored them, don’t just disappear.

It was a lesson she wasn’t keen on accepting.

As much as she didn’t want to think about how much work and effort fixing the Falcon was going to take, she most definitely wasn’t ready to completely abandon it. She, of all people, knew when something was worth saving.

She walked up the metal ramp into the ship, the sound of her boots rattling on the floor grate oddly soothing and familiar. Her fingers brushed against the pneumatic button that controlled the ramp, and she was suddenly fighting back tears. Resting her forehead on the cool metal, she ordered herself not to cry.

The Falcon was a home of sorts for her, and as with any place that could be called ‘home’ it held many memories.

Of doors opening, of new worlds, the possibility of a new life far away from the scorching desert winds and stinging sand.

Of doors closing, too soon.

_ Do not cry. _

What if she couldn’t fix the Falcon? She already doubted she would even be capable of such extensive repairs, besides the fact that messing around with high-pressure valves and combustion chambers was dangerous business, just by their nature potentially explosive.

Her hands balled up into fists.

What if she’d made the wrong choice? What if that moment on Crait had been their only chance? If it  _ was _ the wrong choice, how could she ever forgive herself for closing that damn door?

This ship was all she truly had to her name, broken and damaged though it was. This thought, along with the sturdy floor underneath her, brought her focus back to reality, grounding her.

She couldn’t give up, she had to believe this ship was worth saving. She knew all the potential locked up inside—it just needed a little dedicated engineering know-how to coax it out.

Heaving a sigh that held the weight of an entire world inside it, Rey walked over to the workbench, grabbed her goggles and gloves, and got to work.

She knew the truth, deep in her heart.

There was always hope for broken things.

**Author's Note:**

> aggravating factor = Ben’s inner conflict and Snoke’s lingering influence on him  
high pressure valve = Ben Solo’s coping mechanisms  
combustion chamber = Ben Solo’s heart  
accelerator = Ben Solo’s decision making  
steering = Ben Solo’s moral compass
> 
> so that's that on that  
(ﾉಠ_ಠ)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


End file.
